Out Of The Shadows
by LisaDouglas
Summary: Phyllis Baxter-Molesley wife, mother, lady's maid had put Peter Coyle behind her until the day he showed up in her garden. Set in 1931, the same universe as A Brave New World.
1. A Fresh Start

Chapter One- A Fresh Start

April 1931

"Simon, no climbing the fence!" Baxter warned from her place on her knees.

"Awe!"

She heard the four-year-old groan as he dismounted from the wooden fencepost, returning to the game he'd grown tired of playing with his sister. Phyllis laughed, shaking her head and wiping her brow with the back of her wrist. Tending to the garden was hard work, but it brought her joy. Moreover, it was something more she could do to stash a bit of money away. It wasn't that they needed it badly: Molesley was a teacher now and made decent money, and she was still Lady Grantham's lady's maid. But upon becoming a father, Molesley had blindly decided that his children would, without question, attend college. Phyllis found her husband's decision somewhat unreasonable but noble and obliged with it because she wanted to support him in whatever he desired. After all, he'd believed in her when she still had no hope for herself.

"Mummy!" Simon called. "Mummy when do I get to go to school with Daddy?"

"In a few more months." She promised, hurriedly tossing a few more carrots into the basket she'd brought out with them.

Phyllis had taken the day off from her work at the Abbey to prepare an elaborate feast for her husband's birthday. She was making his favorite; complete with a roast and a cake and knew he'd be floored by the gesture. She'd even spent too much money on a gift: it was the least she could do. It'd been nine years since she'd first met her now husband and knew she'd never be able to thank him enough for how he'd transformed her life in that time. He'd changed her world.

Molesley had been the one to help her put her past behind her and mitigate the emotional damage left behind by Coyle and his schemes. He'd filled a hole in her heart and proved to her that she was worthy of being loved again, of loving herself again. Phyllis closed her eyes and took a deep breath, letting the fresh, country air fill her lungs. Sometimes, even after a decade of freedom, fresh air still felt overwhelming to her. She found herself grateful for it today in a way she could not convey: it was merely a feeling.

Baxter sighed, watching her children play as she surveyed the cottage and lush garden. It was a beautiful, quaint little cottage, just big enough for the four of them and surrounded by a white picket fence on all four sides. She looked at it with fresh, grateful eyes everyday and today, in particular it was like a dream. She'd planted the garden several years earlier out of nothing and took great pride in the fact that it was in full bloom, the food rich and the roses exuberant (tended to partially by her very elderly, and award winning rose enthusiast father-in-law). She never would've imagined she could have a new life, with much of anything in it, let alone wonderful husband, home or children. It was nothing like the family life she'd had as a child and certainly, nothing like the life she'd fallen into before she'd come to Downton. Phyllis felt fulfilled because this: this is who she really was and always had been.

Five and a half years earlier, Molseley had fulfilled his own lifelong dream of becoming a teacher. When she first heard the news of his job she never would've known that it would mean total transformation for her too. At first, it had been very bitter sweet for her. She was proud of and happy for him, but quickly grew sad about the idea of not seeing him daily and worried that he'd forget her.

By then she was attached to him, and he to her only neither had admitted it. He'd helped her start to recover, and she'd encouraged him to finally pursue his dream, something that had fused a deep but unacknowledged bond between the two. They had fallen into a relationship built on encouragement and caring not to mention an underlying flirtation that both of them secretly wished could be more.

Fate intervened one day when they took a walk together, Lord Grantham's dog at their heals, and Molesley was informed that he was to get this wonderful little cottage to live in, in addition to his job. The news was exciting and at once made the two of them blush, sparking an idea in each of their heads: he would propose and she would let go of the past and finally allow herself to move on fully. He'd changed her world and she his.

Baxter and Molesley married that spring, not long after Lady Edith's wedding, and nine months later, at Christmas time their son Simon was born, followed quickly by his sister Penelope the next autumn. The couple had never discussed children, the thought never having even crossed their minds before it happened. Simon and Penelope had ensured a total transformation for their parents; two people who until then had been left out by life and who deeply loved everything about their newfound chances, especially their children.

"Mama." Three-year-old Penelope whispered, shoving the flower she'd picked in her mother's face.

"It's beautiful Penny." She whispered. "Did you pick it for Daddy?" The child nodded swiftly, proud of the present she'd chosen for her Dad. "Go get four more, can you do that?"

Penelope giggled, pleased by her mother's request and ran off to pick more flowers.

"Ooh." Baxter winced, trying to straighten her back.

The youngest Molesley, who almost no one knew about, yet, was taking a toll on its mother despite being very tiny and barely showing. Only a handful of people (Molesley, Cora, Anna, Mrs. Carson and her sixteen year old daughter Charlotte) had any idea she was expecting a third time. Even Simon and Penelope didn't really understand the concept just yet.

Baxter looked up, startled when she heard a bicycle chime. A neighbor sped by quickly and she just stared, not really knowing what she'd been expecting. She paused, rubbing her side in little circles not knowing what to think about how much that had startled her. Suddenly she felt something wet on her nose and looked up, noting it was beginning to rain again.

"Ha! It's raining!" Baxter got on her feet as fast as she could, picking up the little basket of vegetables. "First one inside gets a cookie!" She encouraged.

She'd never tell her children to hurry inside for any other reason, otherwise they always insisted it was fun to stay out and get wet.

"Silly mummy there are no cookies!" Penelope burst.

"Then we'll make some." She promised.

"Mummy don't forget the other contest!" Simon cried, rushing toward the house, Penelope at his heals. Both children stared straight up giggling, their tongues sticking out as they tried to catch the falling rain on their tongues. Phyllis laughed, following her children as the gentle mist of rain began to turn into a spring storm.

"In with you two!" She giggled, following them up the steps.

Baxter went inside with the children, smiling to herself and hoping her husband would like his birthday surprises. It wasn't so much, she realized, that he'd changed her world it was that he'd given her a new one. She closed the door behind her, never noticing the dark figure watching from across the road.

…..

"Ahhh!" Baxter cried, sitting up in bed.

Molesley jumped, panicked and scrambling to turn on the light a mere instant after he awoke from a dead sleep.

"What? What is it?" He asked, his wife still panting. "It's just a dream." He soothed, swallowing hard as he began to rub her back, his own heart continuing to race. "It's just a dream my love, I'm here and…"

"No…." She shook her head, beginning to tear up.

"Yes." He whispered, placing his forehead against hers and taking her cheek in his hand.

"It was so real, are you sure it was a…." She bit her lip.

"Yes, yes it is. I promise. You know you always get these dreams when you're expecting, you…" He protested, tucking her hair behind her ear, she gulped, shaking her head no.

In a way she was right. Baxter always had these dreams. They had been so difficult for Moseley to get used to after he married her. Usually they were manageable but when she was pregnant they became intense and she unreasonable when she was half asleep. Often, he found there was nothing he could do to comfort her.

"Shhhh." He soothed.

Phyllis swallowed hard, clinging to his arms. This particular dream and been vivid and real in a way most of them weren't, as though Coyle were there with them and although she'd woken and her eyes were open, the images haunted her.

"I've got you." He whispered, starting to rock her gently. "There is no going back Mrs. Molesley."

"Mrs. Molesley that sounds so nice." She giggled through her tears.

Most people didn't think of Molesley as a particularly strong man, but to Baxter, he possessed the greatest kindness and strength in all the world. No one comforted her like he did or ever would. Molesley knew this, but he hated that this man still had such a hold on his wife's mind and soul in the depth of the night when nobody knew. She'd grown past it, and forgiven herself, but Coyle often came out of the shadows. So much of him wanted to act on the matter, but he knew not how. All he knew was that he wanted to bring her justice and at the end of the day, make sure she was his and his alone in the depth of the night.

"It sounds perfectly lovely to me." He smiled deeply. He'd always wanted someone to love but never imagined there being a Mrs. Molesley, not until her. "And I promise, there's no going back, only much to look forward to." She sighed as he cupped her still mostly flat belly in his hand.

"There's nothing more I look forward to than life with you." She whispered, leaning into kiss him in the hopes that his embrace would drown out the monsters screaming inside her head.


	2. We'll Be Home Soon

Ch 2- We'll Be Home Soon

Molesley raised an eyebrow when he opened the gate, noting that the front door was open, swinging haphazardly in the wind.

"Phyllis?" He asked as he walked up the steps, "Phyllis?"

He stopped dead in his tracks when he reached the doorway dropping is umbrella and briefcase at the sight of the turned over chair and broken bowl. He knew at once something had gone terribly wrong and his heart began to race.

"Phyllis?" He called helplessly, starting to rush about the barren space.

She wasn't there: he'd know her presence anywhere, and had from the moment he'd first laid eyes on her, he knew now she was gone but cried out in desperation anyway.

"Phyllis!"

Molesley paused, a greater panic rushing over him like a tall wave of water when he realized that if she'd been taken, the children would've been taken too.

"SIMON! PENNY!" Molesley groaned, panic totally possessing him when the children did not answer.

He bit his lip, holding his hand over his head and unable to even consider what to do next. He was about to burst out sobbing when he heard a muffled little cry coming from the corner.

"Daddy!" Penelope cried, coming out from her hiding place, her teddy bear tight in hand.

"Penny!" He gasped, tears pouring down his cheeks as he dropped to his knees and collected the small girl in his arms.

"Oh Penny!"

"Daddy!" Simon exclaimed, rushing up to his father.

"Simon!"

Molesley took a moment to hug the children tight, looking toward the heavens and thanking God that they were safe. He kissed each of the their heads several times.

"Simon, what happened, where is mummy?" He asked seriously, thinking his four-year-old son would be able to tell him something useful.

But Simon had fallen to pieces, too frightened from having witnessed the ordeal to give much information. He jumped at his father's touch, thinking about how the man had touched his mummy, how he'd pushed her and she'd fought back so hard to keep away from him, even pulling a kitchen knife on him, and Simon thought, stabbing him once or twice. But in the end it hadn't stopped him from ransacking the house and pulling her out the door by her hair. Simon swallowed the lump in his throat after several seconds, his mother's screaming still echoing in his ears. Perhaps if he said what he did know it could help?

"A-a man came and mummy didn't want him here, but he came in the house anyway and he fought with mummy and we hid and he took her away with him." He said, chewing on his fingers nervously.

"WHAT?!"

The truth was worse than anything Molesley could've possibly imagined. Worse: it was what he'd imagined, what he knew from the moment he saw the swinging door and overturned chair.

"You don't know where she went?" Simon asked having been sure his father would have the answer.

Penelope began to blubber at her brother's words realizing her mother was really gone and Molesley felt everything, from his mind to his heart just go numb.

…..

"HELP!"

Molesley would never be able to tell you how he'd gotten to Downton so quickly, in the pouring rain with both the children in his arms. Not knowing what was going on, he didn't feel safe in the house and knew that he needed help. As much as he wanted to be with them someone needed to take the children and he needed to take whatever steps were necessary to find his wife. Molesley busted through the Abbey's front door and past Mr. and Mrs. Carson, yelling frantically, causing Lady Grantham to pause at her place atop the staircase.

"What's wrong?!" Mrs. Carson asked, sensing his panic. She reached out and took a crying Penelope from him, placing her on her hip.

"Mr. Molesley?" Carson asked strictly, unhappy about the impropriety of his entrance.

"Please, you have to help me, it's Mrs. Molesley I've got home and the house is ransacked and she's gone!" At this Molesley began to cry, Elsie gasped and Carson was obviously alarmed.

"What?!" Cora asked, quickly coming down the stairs. "Baxter's gone?"

Cora felt she knew her long-standing ladies maid well and knew she never would've left on her own volition.

"Molesley…. You don't think…" Cora paused, not wanting to say anything in front of the children. Molesley nodded quickly, his eyes growing wide.

Elsie was confused, but knew it was high time to make an exit.

"Mr. Carson, I think we should take the children downstairs, for some dry clothes and some ice cream while Mr. Molesley works on finding their mummy." She suggested.

"Thank you Mrs. Carson I think that's a wonderful idea." Cora added.

Carson was torn, while he understood he was being dismissed for a reason, he was also anxious to help. He sighed, distressed by what was going on and followed his wife as she walked away, one child on her hip, the other at her side.

"Mr. Carson." Molesley asked, causing the butler to turn. "Please, send up Mr. Barrow to see me."

"Thomas?" He was dismayed.

"Yes. I very much need him right now."

"We'll be in the library Carson." Cora smiled bittersweetly, gently patting Molesley's back as she led him into the other room, not caring if it was proper or not.

"M'lady if I may, I think I will call the authorities first." Carson recommended.

"Oh that's right! I forgot to call the police!" Molesley panicked.

…..

"The poor loves." Mrs. Patmore whispered.

Charlotte Carson, the oldest of the Carson children, watched carefully as her parents sat around the kitchen island with the two Molesley children. The sixteen-year-old was dismayed by what had happened, so much so that she could barely fathom it.

"Are you sure?" The girl asked her godmother.

Charlotte, who was nearly grown, was short, had auburn-red hair that went just passed her shoulders and was in many ways, the image of her mother.

"No m'lad and lass." Elsie soothed, rocking Penny in her lap. "I know you're so scared, but daddy's going to find mummy and make it all right."

Simon gulped, barely able to touch his ice cream. Carson pat his back watching as big tears rolled down the boy's cheeks and into the bowl. He had something difficult to tell the children and couldn't fathom doing it, not in their states.

"Simon." He cleared his throat. "Simon, Penny the police are coming to the house. You know the policemen are good men who help people?"

Simon and Penny both nodded.

"And you know Sargent Willis from church and from town?" Elsie asked and they nodded at this too.

"Simon, the policemen are going to want to talk to you and to Penny because you were there. It might be upsetting." Carson finally said.

"But we'll be right there and so will your daddy and the more you can remember just the way it happened the better it can help mummy, do you understand?"

"Uh-huh." Simon mumbled, realizing he was being given a very important job.

For Penelope, much of the lines were already blurred, and because she was so little; things about her memory of the incident were already distorted. But one thing she recalled clearly was the screaming. Her mother's pleading with this strange man echoed in her tiny mind and while she wanted to help she sought desperately to drown it out. She buried her face in Mrs. Carson's chest, hoping that the closer she got, the noise would flee from her: but she had no such luck.

…

"Molesley I want you to know Lord Grantham and I will do whatever we can, and whatsmore anything that needs to be done." She promised, shakily pouring two cups of tea as she watched him. She was very upset but tried not to let it show, knowing that he needed strength and support.

Molesley sat on the chaise, his face in his hands. He bore a look of utter defeat and crippling despair not just in his face or his eyes but in the very way in which he sat and even breathed. He was terrified, confused and worst of all, restless. He was waiting for the police and trying to stay calm but knew in his heart of hearts that he needed to have dropped off his children and left at once to begin looking for her. There was no time to loose and he felt that strongly, every inch of him, body and soul seemed to spur him to an action he knew not how to take.

"It's Coyle." He spat. Cora jumped, surprised by the hatred in the normally docile man's voice.

She'd known him many years, practically since she'd come to the village and never heard him take such a tone. She elected not to say anything in reply and let him continue speaking.

"She's…she's afraid of him now, did you know that? I know she tells you things."

"She is more my friend than my ladies maid but she'd not told me that." Cora said.

Molesley was haunted. All he could think of were his wife's dreams: the ones that woke her up violently night in and night out, scared nearly to the point of delusion. And now she was out there somewhere: those hellish dreams that dissolved her into a whimpering mess of a soul becoming a reality while he sat there and had tea with Lady Grantham.

He felt every bit responsible and wanted to be every bit her protector, although very secretly he didn't feel up to the task. He was a gentle man, one of words and heart but not action or force and or that he felt a failure. He always held her at night when she awoke from her hell and promised her there was no going back: but he'd let it happen, he'd done the unthinkable and allowed the one thing he promised himself would never happen: for that man to have a real hold on his wife again.

'You have to do it.' A voice whispered. Molesley was confused. A very reasonable, and good man, he knew the varying parts of his brain well and understood this was his rational side speaking to him. 'You have to find him and kill him.' 'Me? Kill a man!' Another part of him wanted to scream.

Molesley had been through a lot in his life, but had never experienced an emotional tug of war so intense: he struggled with the pain and fear of the situation, they were overwhelming but his anger was swelling to depths that he'd never experienced or even fathomed. It was unnatural for him and he wasn't sure how much longer he could handle it before he lost it.

"I'm sure she's…." Cora began; wanting to assure him that Baxter was strong.

"She's having a baby, did she tell you that?" He asked, anger swelling in him again at the thought that Coyle was endangering not just his wife but also, his youngest and much wanted child.

"Yes she did."

"What's going on?! I came as fast as I could." Thomas asked, stopping in the door to catch his breath. "Oh, pardon m'lady." He said very formally.

"Don't bother right now Barrow, just think war time." Cora corrected.

"M'lady?" Thomas was confused.

"I think you might be able to help us Thomas, please, close the door and sit."

"Only he can help me: he knows the whole story. More so than I do." Molesley spat, a hint of resentment in his voice.

Thomas paused, looking back at Molesley. He'd heard what had happened and drawn his own conclusions. But it was only now that he'd been asked there; that he came to understand the request that Molesley was about to make of him. He paused, considering it for a minute.

"We leave tonight: as soon as the police do." Thomas recommended.

"It couldn't be soon enough."

…

"Daddy don't go!" Simon cried.

The children were tucked in bed together and immensely distraught when they heard that their father would be leaving them now too. He felt similarly but couldn't admit it to them at least relieved he'd be leaving them in a place where they'd absolutely be safe.

"I don't want to go either, but you want me to find mummy right?" He asked.

The children watched him innocently, tears in their eyes.

"Daddy no leave us." Penny whispered.

"Oh Penny, Simon I love you more than the world. You're going to stay with Mrs. Carson just until I come back." He whispered, kissing each, child as he tucked them in and turned off the light.

It was barely nightfall and his children's bedtime made all of those conflicting feelings rise up within again: sorrow, extreme anger, panic, his love for his children…even the one who was not yet born.

"Will you come back?" Simon asked, yawning.

"Daddy loves you, he will be back."

"Will you come back with mummy?" Penelope asked.

Molesley paused, not knowing what to say. He couldn't promise it could he? Not even to himself. Coyle was a dangerous man, one most likely out for revenge.

"Mr. Molesley I hate to interrupt but it's time to go." Thomas said. He stood in the doorframe, a sack over his shoulder. "Good night children."

"Good night Uncle Thomas!" They yawned.

Molesley bristled, he'd never get used to Thomas being his children's godfather, even if he had agreed to it.

"Good night my wonderful children." Molesley whispered. "Don't forget mummy and I love you very much. We'll be home soon."


	3. Into The Woods

Ch 3- Into The Woods

"Mama." Penny whispered quietly after Mrs. Carson put them to bed.

Elsie had tucked the Molesley siblings in bed in the tiny bedroom behind the kitchen. Penny was shaking and had her arms wrapped tightly around her big brother who, being just shy of a year her senior (and also afraid), was growing annoyed by her dependency on him.

'Mummy, Penny's bothering me!' He wanted to yell, but then stopped himself, his heart sinking when he realized she wasn't there.

"Stop talking about it Penelope!" He demanded instead, causing her to start crying.

"Mrs. Car-son!" Penny cried, getting out of bed. "Mrs. Carson, Simon's being mean!"

Simon sighed, following his sister into the warmth of the Carson's kitchen. Charlotte, Samuel and Lucy Carson looked up from their place at the table where they were finishing their homework assignments, but did not say a word.

"Oh lass, I'm sure he doesn't mean it." Elsie said getting on her knees and taking the little girl in her arms.

"She won't stop asking me about mummy!" Simon complained, his own eyes welling with tears.

The children had had a long, terrifying day and were understandably overwhelmed. Their time being questioned by police had not gone well and had failed to give authorities much information to go on. The two were simply too little to glean much from what had happened, and too consumed in their own angst.

"I want mummy." Penny cried as Elsie took each of their hands.

Elsie settled the children back in their bed. The room belonged to her sons but was really just a glorified closet off to the side of the kitchen that was about the size of a bed itself. They had never used it for anything during their first few years in the house, but when the Carson brothers were little, they began to play in there and at first used it as their hideout (a sort of den, far from the reach of their sisters).

Their occupancy of the previously forgotten space had prompted their father to construct a bed in the room so that the boys would have a soft surface to play on. Eventually, the brothers used it as their small, but very unique shared bedroom, one they still occupied but were forefitting for the duration of the Molesley children's stay. The place was a boy's wonderland and Simon found that it consoled him in the strangest of ways. He loved all their toys, the drawings that filled the walls, their maps of far off places and the strange pieces of fabric hung on the ceiling, which the little boy didn't understand were English flags. Samuel didn't mind vacating his room for a few days, but was a little apprehensive about it.

"I hope they don't explore _too_ much." He said to his older sister. "Charlie and I have model airplanes in there."

It was much more than that. The place was a boy's wonderland: not just for little boys but older ones too. Samuel knew that his big brother (who was away at school), had stashed a, shall we say _suggestive_ drawing of a lady under his side of the bed. It wasn't anything lurid by modern standards, but it was offensive comparative to his parent's victorian sensibilities.

Being eleven-years-old, Samuel understood his brother's motivation but was himself only moderately interested. He had never really looked at it closely and hadn't had time to remove it. He only hoped that Simon and Penny didn't find it, not just for their sakes, but for Charlie's. It didn't matter that he was sixteen and living three hours away, he still knew that if his mum found it she'd board a train, go to his school and throttle him for having it in the first place. Sam knew he'd understand better in a few years time and sought, for that reason among others, to protect his brother, figuring it wasn't his business if he wanted to look at a scantily clad drawing of a lady. Little did Samuel know his father already knew about the drawing and also thought it was none of his business.

"M'lad and lass. I know you're sacred." Elsie began. "Your daddy and Mr. Barrow, your Uncle Thomas, will do everything they can to find your mummy. But you need each other's comfort now." Simon groaned when his sister hugged him again. "Would you like another story sweethearts? And then it's time to try to go to sleep."

The siblings nodded as she tucked them back into bed, even though they were frightened they were quickly growing tired. Elsie sat on the edge of the bed and reached under it, grasping for one of the many books her own sons kept there, hoping to come up with something appropriate. Elsie didn't know it but just missed the drawing, instead grasping a children's storybook in her hand.

'Perfect!' She thought when she found Peter Rabbit, a story all four of her children loved and still did.

"Do you like the tale of Peter Rabbit?" She inquired.

"No, nooooooooooo!" The siblings cried collectively, shaking their heads in alarm. Elsie jumped, never expecting that reaction. Charlotte rushed to the open door, peering in anxiously.

"That's the man's name!" Simon cried, now willingly holding Penny close.

"What man?!" Elsie was confused.

"The man who took mummy!" Penny started to cry once again.

…..

"Snap out of it!" Thomas cried as he drove, Molesley's insecurity beginning to annoy him.

Lord Grantham had allowed them to take the car and they were on the way to London.

"Forgive me it's only my wife we're talking about."

Thomas sighed. "I know what they said and I know it's getting to you."

Molesley side-eyed him, a hint of resentment in his gaze. It was true, the authorities had a working theory, one which no one who really knew Baxter agreed with. Moreover, it was one that crushed poor Molesley. He didn't think he could handle even the possibility of it being true.

"You know just as well as I do that it's utter nonsense. Don't let it get to you."

"Funny, you're the one always putting utter nonsense in people's heads."

"Look he's NOT going to kill her."

"Kill her!" Molesley found himself totally alarmed now. He'd not thought of murder and now that he had it was the most preeminent thing on his mind.

"Calm down." Thomas rolled his eyes.

"I can't… I can't _calm down_ this is my wife!"

Of course, Molesley had been afraid of abuse, of harm to the baby, but his overarching fears had been about her emotional state. She was more fragile than people realized. Privately, she had problems with confidence, with post traumatic-stress, with nightmares and other things… all because of Coyle. Molesley loved his wife intensely. It was through her nightmares and panic attacks that he'd come to see another side of her and also come to resent this Coyle deeply.

After several years of marriage, of being each other's confidante, of waking up in the middle of the night and staying up through it, he thought he'd heard almost every detail of her relationship with this man. At first, it'd shocked him. How had he married someone who'd been with someone else? That realization had hit him one night when she was crying and unable to sleep.

He remembered looking back at her, in the wee hours of the morning frankly feeling a bit shocked about the confessions she was making to him, about how she and Coyle had lived, how he had treated her. He remembered watching her as she sat in the darkened kitchen, pouring her heart out after a nightmare, stuffing herself with the ice cream he'd made earlier in the day.

He'd never felt more conflicted than he had in that moment, wondering if he'd married someone of low moral fiber, and then looking back at her, struck instntaniously with the mere fact that she was his wife: that she was sweet, that she was beautiful, that she was pregnant (at this time, with Simon)… how had _he_ deserved all of that? And moreover, how could he forgive himself for thinking ill of her? Life had taken advantage of her and played an unfair hand no differently than it had with him.

It was three o'clock in the morning and he was overtired. But Molesley recalled going to her side of the table, getting on his knees and kissing her belly, causing her to break out of her melancholy and laugh out loud, her tone more jubilant than he'd ever heard it. She looked down at him and his heart melted, seeing her eyes shine.

" _What's that for?" She'd laughed._

" _It's… it's a thank you for surviving because I was waiting for you and I'll always be here to save you."_

" _Oh Mr. Molesley." She smiled, taking his face in her hands. She leaned down and placed her forehead against his. "I was waiting for you too."_

Molesley swallowed hard at the recollection, feeling as if he'd been stabbed, and hoping she was out there somewhere still, waiting for him. In hindsight, he felt like he'd been there with her all that time she'd been in this abusive relationship with Coyle, after all she'd reiterated nearly every detail and as the person who loved her above all, he shared her pain.

"I know her in a way you don't." Thomas voiced, his words bringing Molesley to a slow anger. "She's tough, that one."

"Mr. Barrow no one knows her strength better than me." Molesley clenched his fists. This wasn't Thomas' battle: it was theirs and theirs alone.

"He does." Thomas reminded, matter of factly, the notion enraging the servant turned teacher. "Whatever he has in store, she'll tough it out. I've seen her tough out…"

"Thomas she's pregnant, damn it!"

Thomas put the breaks on the car fast, it screeched to a halt and almost crashed.

"Pre-she's pregnant?" Thomas asked once the car stopped.

"Yes, start the car we've not got a moment to loose!" Molesley urged.

"Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit!"

"Thomas?" Molseley was surprised at the butler's language. If anything, _he_ should be the one saying 'shit.'

"He'll take advantage of this. He'll use this."

"Don't you think I know that?! Get driving or I will!"

With a sigh and a screech, Thomas pulled back onto the road at high speed.

"Who knows?" He asked quickly.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Who knows!"

"Dr. Clarkson and Lady Grantham, and myself… Why?"

"Because someone has to have sold her out."

"S-sold her out?" The idea of anyone doing this to his wife chilled Molseley to the bone.

"Yes don't you see. Baby is the perfect armor."

"ARMOR?!"

…

"It's going to be alright." Robert assured, pausing at the door.

Lord Grantham watched his wife as she sat solemnly, staring out their bedroom window at the grounds. She looked down, toying with the hairbrush she kept in hand but failed to answer.

"She's a strong woman." Robert continued. "She did survive prison if you'll recall."

"Yes but, that man." Cora finally spoke, turning back to her husband. "That man and the things she's said of him. Oh Robert it's simply awful."

The Lord frowned and placed his hands inside the pockets of his silk robe as he sat alongside her on the chaise.

"You know. I'd never have thought that you'd ever be closer to another lady's maid after O'Brien you were thick as thieves for a while."

"Yeah well… Baxter's more of a friend than a lady's maid." She looked up for a moment. "And looking back, I may've been a little more nieve then. I think Obrian's why I almost miscarried Benjamin."

Robert sat up taller, his eyes bursting with anger when she said this. She placed his hand on his chest to calm him, directing the conversation back to Baxter.

"Baxter's been a loyal friend, perhaps the most loyal I've ever had. Like Anna has to Mary and Bates to you. I'm tremendously worried and the poor little darlings are so scared. And … well it was a secret until now but she's having another baby. Do you realize how badly he might hurt them? Robert he could kill the baby!" She choked.

It had been one of the first things that came to mind somehow, when she'd found out Baxter was missing, and the idea terrified her.

Robert's face fell when he heard the news. Distressed, he pulled his wife into his embrace. "We'll do everything we can to help find her, and in the morning, we'll have Murray phone the London police."

…

Baxter squinted, surveying the road ahead as the car charged blindly ahead, the bright white headlights barely parting the deep black gloom of the night. She was a wreck, and even despite two fist fights, and hours of being screamed at, Baxter remained tight lipped and so nervous she was almost holding her breath. She was worried to death about where she was going, how scared her children must be, and about the little one inside her who was too small to be detected. She longed to place her hand on her middle, but refrained, knowing that Peter Coyle was the sort of man who'd have no qualms about harming her baby. Most of all though, she worried her Mr. Molesley would never find her.

"OH!" She yelped when the car hit a rock and bounced violently, causing her to hit her head.

"Shut up you!" Coyle barked.

Baxter swallowed hard, tears rolling down her cheeks as the car came to a secluded stop and the lights in the car went dead. He got out, slamming the door behind him. Several minutes went by and for that time, it seemed as if Coyle had wandered off into the distance. She squinted more, trying to make out anything of her surroundings in the dark. Her heart picked up with rapid speed and her breathing grew loud.

She looked all around, desperately searching for clues when suddenly the door opened. Faster than sound, two black gloved hands emerged from out of the shadows, one squeezing her arm like a snake, the other stifling her scream as it pressed down hard on her mouth. Baxter kicked back, but was no match for the phantom who pulled her out of the car and into the woods.


End file.
